Scars
by Michebellaxo
Summary: EC week prompt response, day two - Regina's diaries from the Leopold years surface.


**Ec week prompt response - Day two, Regina's diaries from the Leopold years surface. TW for discussion of past rape, past miscarriage, glimpse of a suicidal thought, and neglect. Please review and let me know what you think :)**

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It was a Thursday afternoon, blustery cold and snowing hard and Regina was sitting in her office, her chair facing the window as she stared out at the snowstorm, trying to decide if she should just take some of her work home for the day and leave early. She didn't want to get stuck in the snow, and her car was most definitely not made for traversing roads that weren't clear of ice and snow. Nobody would be out to plow the roads until the storm was at least half over, though, so she was leaning towards yes, she should leave and go home, give it the weekend to pass over. There was enough of the things that needed done that could be done on her work laptop, which she could take home with her, and a couple of manila folders of reports and budgets she needed to look over. Enough work for Friday that she could get done, so it wouldn't be a total waste of a workday if she stayed home.

Gathering her things, she bundled herself in her coat and gloves, pulling her hood over her hair and sliding her purse, now stuffed with folders and her laptop with the charger, up to her shoulder. She walked through the building, noticing a few strange looks from the staff members. Ignoring it, Regina headed to her car, deciding to stop at the grocery store on the way home to make sure that she would have enough to get her through the weekend. Henry wouldn't be home, so if it came down to it, she could eat oatmeal and fruit for most meals if she really wanted to skip the store, but she wanted to make a warm soup, something to make the weekend less dreary. There were more blatant stares in her direction, odd looks, some seemed full of pity and others seemed distrustful.

Regina had filled her cart with everything she needed, careful to get through all the ingredients she needed, making sure she didn't forget anything, since she knew she wouldn't be able to get back out before the weekend was over. She paid, taking the bags outside and loading them into the trunk. She didn't hear her phone ring over the sound of the wind and the rustling of her grocery bags. It wasn't until she saw David's truck parked in front of her house that she even looked at her phone, wondering if there was something going on with Henry and if there were messages. There was a single missed call and a voicemail from Henry on her phone. Tapping the notification with a frown on her face, she listened to the message and felt her heart drop.

 _Hey mom, I'm hoping you get this before you see the copies online. Someone found something of yours from when you were younger, from the Enchanted Forest, and they took a picture of some of it and sent it to everyone in town that has a phone or an email. David's on his way to bring the books to you, but it's… uh, Mom, I'm really sorry, it's pretty bad. Emma's trying to track it to find who sent it out, but don't look online at the town news until you talk to David. Please. Love you, bye._

Regina stared at her phone after pulling it away from her ear, wondering what he was talking about. There was a knock on her window and she looked up to see David. Sucking in a sharp breath, she grabbed her purse and keys and opened the door. "What's going on?" she asked, trying to brace herself.

"We should go inside first. Anything I can carry for you?" He shifted on his feet, clutching the top of the canvas bag as though he was trying to hide its contents.

Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, she opened the back door and pulled out a paper bag, holding it out for his free arm. Once she was certain he had a good grip, she bent and grabbed the second, shutting the door and waving toward the walkway. "Let's go inside then, I guess."

He nodded, waiting until she started toward the house to follow her, his stomach tensing with anticipation of what he was going to have to tell her.

She took the steps carefully, knowing they'd be icy sooner than the sidewalk. Unlocking the door, Regina motioned for him to enter first, then followed him inside. "You know where the kitchen is, just wipe your boots on the rug."

Doing as asked, David then headed into the kitchen and set the bag down. Needing to busy himself, he tucked the bag he'd brought with him under one arm, then began unloading the paper bag of groceries. When she joined him, he looked over at her with a gaze she couldn't quite place, but shrugged it off. She would know whatever was going on momentarily, even if she wasn't certain she wanted to know what it was.

It wasn't until the groceries were put away that David took the bag into his hands again and motioned toward the living room. "Let's sit, yeah?"

"David, what is going on?"

"Let's just sit, and then we'll talk about it."

Sighing, she nodded and led him into the sitting room, taking a seat on the couch and waiting for him to do the same. She half turned her body toward him, wondering what it was that was so bad he came instead of Snow. Her eyes were trained on his face as he settled down, the top of the bag bunched once more in his fist as he settled it onto his knee and licked his lips.

"Will you please just tell me what that is? I doubt it's as bad as you and Henry have made it seem."

He gave a quick nod of his head. "I was at work this morning before Snow woke up, so please go easy on me, all right?" David waited to continue until she held her hands up in some sort of agreement. "Someone left these outside of our door this morning, and Snow, uh… was curious and she read through both of them. The entirety of them. We don't know who they came from, and it wasn't Snow who sent around the pictures of a few pages."

"I don't understand what could be so bad, will you just get to the point?" she snapped.

Opening the bag, David reached inside and pulled out two heavy tomes, one black with gold embroidered borders on the front and a deep red one that matched. Regina let out a gasp, reaching forward to rip them from his hands.

"You didn't read them?" she asked quietly, settling the books on her thighs and stroking her fingers over the decorated cover.

"I read about half the page that was sent to everyone, but stopped when I realized what it was. Regina… I'm so sorry."

"I don't want your pity, David." Regina tried her best to keep her emotions at bay. "Henry said it was bad. What was it about, the pages sent around?"

"I uh, it's on the Storybrooke community page."

" _Just tell me, Charming_." She was losing her patience, and she didn't want to reread the words she'd written during the torturous fallacy of a marriage she'd endured.

"It was after your wedding night."

She gasped again, tears welling into her eyes once more, though she turned her face down, focusing her gaze on the cover of the diary on top. There was no way Regina wanted to face him, not when it was something so exposing, so painful about her past. The realization of his earlier words hit her, and she cleared her throat. "You said Snow read both of them? All the way through?"

"That's what she told me."

"Why? Why didn't she stop? Why would she do that?" She was furious, embarrassed, and a whole list of other things she couldn't even take a moment to define to herself. "And Henry… he read the one that was sent around? All of it? How much was posted?"

David opened his mouth, closing it quickly as he considered his words. "Henry read only a bit of the one sent around, he stopped when he realized that the uh, the situation you were describing, uh… the pain you were writing about," he stopped, his tongue heavy with the words he didn't want to say. "He stopped when he realized that you were writing about your-"

"When he realized I was describing the pain of being raped?" she spat bitterly, her breaths growing shallow as panic took over her at the thought that her son had accidentally read his mother's reaction to marital rape.

"Regina…" David reached a hand out, quickly dropping it when he realized that it probably wasn't a good time to touch her without permission. "He didn't know. He stopped when he realized."

"I'm not upset with him. I just, I never wanted him to know about that. I never wanted him to have to think about the things I went through." Her eyes filled with tears that she refused to let fall. "Is he okay?"

Nodding, David dipped his head to look into her eyes. "He's angry. He's taking it out on Snow, apparently he yelled at her and said it was her fault, since the marriage resulted from her telling your mother about Daniel, along with you having rescued her from that horse."

Regina nodded, looking back down at the books in her lap, stomach churning as she remember every single event she'd written down in these diaries. "I didn't know these still existed. I figured Leopold would have burned them or something. I didn't think he'd want any evidence of the things he'd done to me."

"Leopold had these?" he asked quietly, disgust filling his gut even more.

"He took them from me. He had guards search my room once, and they found the black one, but not the red, and he learned that the genie… Sidney, had spoken of my beauty and had given me the gift of a mirror to show me such. Well, he didn't know it was him, just a nameless man who gave me attention in a way that he did not. It made him angry and jealous, and he had them search for any others, and they found the red one. They were gone, and after Sidney killed him for me, I searched everywhere in the castle for them. I used magic to scour the entire palace, but I could never find them." Regina looked at him, her forehead slightly creased, her upper lip curved into the start of a scowl. "I wanted them destroyed. The young woman in me wanted to write everything down, wanted a way to vent and complain and let go of my tears without anyone seeing it, hearing it… viewing me as weak, but now everyone knows."

David just barely ran his fingertips over the back of the hand she had resting on the diary, reminding her he was there, but not wanting to catch her off guard with a heavier touch. "I'm so sorry."

"Why didn't Snow stop? That's one of the first few entries! Why did she continue to read them all? Stupid nosy, little bitch," she growled, turning her upper body and hurling the top diary at the wall. Regina stood then, the second in her hands as she looked around the room frantically, desperately feeling the need to destroy something, but not wanting to completely lose control in David's presence. Finally, she launched the book toward a different wall than she'd thrown the first, dropping back down to the couch and pressing her face into her hands.

He could tell from the way her shoulders moved that she was crying, though he could also tell she was trying very hard to keep it from him. His heart ached for her, and he wanted to help her somehow, to show her that she didn't have to sit here and fight the pain she was feeling, that she could lean on him and ask for his friendship, could take advantage of the role they filled in each other's lives, as family, as… kindred spirits, of a sort. "Regina?" he murmured, bringing one hand up to her shoulder and resting it there. "Is this okay?" David waited, watching her carefully for a response, and when she gave the slightest nod of her head, he smoothed his hand across her upper back and cupped her opposite shoulder in his hand, drawing her body closer to his and pressing his cheek to her hair. "I'm so sorry."

They sat there for nearly ten minutes, David simply holding her as she kept her face covered from him, eventually burying it against his broad chest and allowing herself the moment to be weak and have strong arms around her, holding her carefully and with a kindness she hadn't ever fully experienced from a man since her days with Daniel. Finally, Regina pulled away slowly and looked away, wiping her cheeks as discreetly as she could. She stood up, deciding she needed to do something to keep her hands busy so she wouldn't be tempted to use magic to destroy everything in sight. Without a word to David, she headed to the kitchen and started pulling out all the ingredients she needed to make the chicken and vegetable soup she always made when the weather was bitter and the sky was too gray.

David waited a moment, following after her and leaning against the doorway to the kitchen. "Can I help?" he asked, not wanting to ask her anything more about the diaries, but also not wanting to leave her alone just yet. An angry Regina combined with solitude usually didn't mix well, and it wasn't that he was concerned about her hurting someone or bringing her wrath upon her house, but he worried about what the loneliness would do to her, how it could suck her into the self loathing spiral she'd often fallen into when she felt that mentally crippling anxiety he'd seen her succumb to, like when she'd had to kill Daniel, and the several times she'd almost lost Henry. She shouldn't be alone, and unless she asked him to leave, he wouldn't step out that door.

Regina glanced at him, quickly averting her gaze and giving a curt nod. She pulled out two cutting boards and knives, setting an onion and celery on one, carrots and tomatoes on the other. "You can help me chop these." She waited until he came over and set to slicing the celery stalks, before she moved away and pulled out a stock pan to put on the stove. Next, she lined boneless chicken breasts in a dish and slid them into the oven. After her other tasks were done and her hands were washed, she returned to stand beside him, and together they diced and sliced vegetables in silence.

She wouldn't admit that she was glad he'd stayed, had offered help instead of asking her if she wanted to talk, allowing her to do as she pleased without pushing a discussion. David was different like that, more like her in that manner than Snow was, accepting that she didn't like discussing every single thing that happened, and understanding that sometimes she just wanted the quiet to think, but didn't necessarily want to be alone.

So they continued their work in the quiet until all the vegetables were chopped, and Regina went to start the broth in the pot she'd pulled out, adding water and stock, the carrots and the onion, a box of noodles, so the harder things could soften in the simmering heat while the chicken cooked. And when there was nothing else to occupy their focus, she looked at him in an act of bravery and pursed her lips.

"He raped me. He raped me almost every single night for the first year, except the nights that I was having my monthly cycle. For a while I cried, for months, I would beg him not to, tell him I didn't want it, or I was sore, or tired, and they weren't lies. I hurt almost every day for that year, because I never was ready for him, and he'd take me anyway. I know this was what was the custom in our land, I know that I was supposed to accept it as a responsibility of being his wife, but I didn't enjoy it, and I didn't want it, and I never grew used to it. I lived for the nights when he would be traveling. It took nearly two years before I wanted to be touched by another, and that was how I got my reputation after Leopold's death. I slept with many when I was the Queen, even before he was dead, because I wanted to feel pleasure that felt as good as my time with him felt bad. And I wrote it in my diaries. I didn't know he would find them, but I did know that if he did, he would be angry, and still I didn't care, because had it not been for the ways I tried to heal myself, I probably would not have lasted so long alive."

David simply watched her, taking in the words she spoke, while silently wishing someone could have put an end to her pain far earlier than she did, when she took matters into her own hands and tricked Sidney into killing Leopold for her. "I wish I could say more than that I'm sorry you had to go through that. I know how kings in our land were, and I know that couldn't have been easy, but for the record, I'm glad you survived it. I'm glad you're here now, and that you're my grandson's mother, weird as that may be to say, after everything we've done to each other."

Regina nodded. "What did Snow say about my diaries?" she asked, squaring her jaw and biting her tongue, wanting to prevent herself from lashing out at him if she was angry about his wife's thoughts on her youthful recollections of the abuse she endured at the other woman's father's hand.

David wasn't ready to answer that question, because even he did not approve of Snow's beliefs, especially after she'd read the words herself. Especially being a full grown adult and knowing there had to be more of a reason that Regina would kill Leopold other than assuming she just wanted the kingdom, because the Regina they knew had never wanted that at all, and there was no denying that. Perhaps when Snow was younger and did not know Regina the way they both knew her now, that belief would be acceptable, but not after all this time, not after all they'd learned and all the time they'd spent together.

Taking his prolonged silence as his answer, she shook her head in disbelief and leaned against the island, arms folded across her chest and eyes taking in the expression on his face. "Don't worry, I'm no longer evil enough to take your wife's actions out on you."

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable if she was ready to be alone, though Regina wasn't one to allow someone to stay if she didn't want them around in some manner.

"I…" She furrowed her eyebrows. The thought of spending the entire evening by herself after being forced to confront her past so suddenly churned her stomach and made her heart ache.

David, noticing her hesitance to answer, though he was certain she didn't want him to leave by it, gave her a faint smile. "You know, I don't think I've had homemade soup since my mother made it when I was young. Would it be alright if I stayed to join you for dinner?"

Regina nodded, relief filling her body, though she knew what he was doing. "I suppose that's only fair, since you helped."

"Excellent, so what shall we do to pass the time?"

They'd ended up settling in front of the tv once Regina pulled the chicken out to cool enough for shredding, before she would have to add it to the simmering soup. A mindless sitcom was playing on the screen, and they'd mostly been silent, other than when she offered him a glass of wine and asked if there was anything in particular he was interested in watching. And while it was nice not having to talk about her diaries, her past, the silence was making her think about everything she had written in those pages, and she didn't want that either.

So, after several minutes of watching the sitcom on tv, she looked at him and took a deep sip from her wineglass. "Do you ever think what it would be like to live such a simple life like theirs?"

David shifted, turning his body sideways on the couch to face her, one foot on the ground, the other tucked under his knee. "There were many days after the curse broke that I wished David Nolan's life was my true life. I wished that the hardest things in my life were realizing I didn't love my wife, was in love with a school teacher, and was being seduced by the town mayor." He gave her a small grin, shaking his head in memory of that night so long ago. "It seemed hard when I was going through it, but everything we've gone through since? So much worse."

Regina nodded, resting her glass against her knee and fighting the tears that wanted so badly to spill freely over her cheeks. "I loved the curse. And I know everyone always thought it was because of the control, of being able to keep everything from everyone, being able to keep people from their happy endings… but that wasn't it, not really." She gave a sad, short smile, one that disappeared nearly as quickly as it appeared. "I'm not denying I enjoyed that part, because I did, that's who I was. What I really liked, though, was that nobody knew anything about me, and I could pretend. I could pretend that everything that had happened in my past didn't matter, that I wasn't so fucked up from it all, that I was never the Evil Queen. The first eight years I had Henry were the best years of my life."

"He's a good kid. You did amazing with him."

She smiled brighter then, pleased by the compliment, because it was the best one she could have ever asked for. Henry was her pride and joy, her baby, her everything, and hearing that someone else saw that she tried, that she was a good mother who'd raised a good boy, it gave her a sense of accomplishment and pride. "He is, he's so good. He is the best thing that has ever happened to me, so would I change anything I've gone through? No. I hate my past, I hate how I fell into the darkness and let it take me over, but I wouldn't go back and change any of it, because I would never risk the possibility of not having Henry in my life."

David reached one hand out, settling it on her knee and squeezing lightly. "You're a good mom, Regina, a good person. And you're stronger than just about anyone I know. I don't know all of the things you went through, but just from what you told me, I don't know how you came out alive."

"You really didn't read any of it?" Regina asked, though it was mostly rhetorical.

"I really didn't. My mother raised me to respect women, and that includes such things as not reading a diary I wasn't permitted access to."

"There's a lot of hatred for Snow in those pages."

He nodded. "That doesn't surprise me, with your history being what it is."

"Did she speak to you of what I wrote?"

"She wanted to. I asked her not to, though. It isn't my place to know. It isn't anyone's place to know, not without you being the one to share it."

"She's always been rather entitled, hasn't she, though?" Regina countered, though her words weren't laced with malice, simply sounding as though she was stating a fact.

"We 'heroes,'" he started, using his fingers to make air quotes, "get that way sometimes. I know it doesn't make it right. And I'm sorry you're paying the price again."

She simply shook her head. "There are reasons she shouldn't have read those, reasons that they were private. _Especially_ from her. There are things I protected her from knowing as a child, because she might as well have worshipped the ground her father walked on, and as much as I hated him, and as awful as he was to me, I didn't want to take that away from her."

David watched her as her words sunk in, tilting his head in curiosity but refusing to vocalize it. "You loved her," he stated, the realization hitting him hard. He'd always suspected that there was a level of care there, even when they were at each other's throats and Regina was constantly hunting Snow, but he'd never realized the extent of her feelings for his wife until just then.

"Of course I did. She was a petulant brat and a pain in my ass, but of course I loved her. She was who I spent my days with. On the rare occasion that I didn't have to go to Leopold's chambers at night, it was because Snow would have crawled into my bed in need of soothing from her nightmares."

"You were her mother," David answered quietly.

" _Step_ -mother," Regina corrected, nodding regardless. "And she was never going to have a sibling, so I did what I could to make her happy. At least until she was old enough for me to destroy."

"How does that work, though?" He met her eyes, bringing his free hand back down to the couch between them, his other cradling his mostly empty wineglass. "How do you love someone and still want to completely destroy them?"

She sighed, sinking further into the couch and bringing her legs up, tucking her feet under her hip. "I don't know. She took away the only person who'd ever loved me enough to want the best for me, the only person who ever truly cared to try to take care of me, or to defend me, or to do what he could to protect me. I know it was my mother, not Snow, but that was how I viewed it, because it's so much easier to blame a spoiled little girl than to blame a mother who never loved me, but whose acceptance I craved so desperately, even after I rid myself of her."

David covered the hand she had on her leg with his own hand, stroking the side of her finger. "Your mother was insane not to love you. The stories Snow has told me, the things I've seen from the way you raise Henry, the way you fight the darkness in yourself all the time, those are all impressive. _You're_ impressive."

Regina dipped her head, never certain how to accept a compliment, since she'd rarely ever been given an earnest one before. It made a longing fill her, a small part of her that she'd allow to feel that desperation to have someone good like David to love her, someone who took care of the people close to him and who was the first person to check in with someone who was hurting. "I should probably go shred that chicken for the soup," she told him, effectively excusing herself and getting up from the couch to go into the kitchen.

David waited twenty minutes for her to return, wanting to give her the space she may need. But when he looked at the clock, he stood up and walked to the kitchen, leaning against the doorway again and watching her, the front of her body facing the window above her kitchen sink, back to the doorway where he stood. "You all right?"

She turned, leaning back against the sink and folding her arms across her chest, one ankle crossed over the other. Regina looked at him, rolling her lips together and quickly averting her eyes so her gaze didn't remain on him. "I think I'm… not. No, I'm not."

He pushed away from the doorframe, walking to stand in front of her and resting his hands on her crossed arms. "Do you want to talk more?"

"Why are you here?"

"Why did I stay?" he asked, waiting for her nod and shrugging. "You seemed like you needed the company, but obviously Henry wouldn't have been a good idea tonight, because he's too young to understand that being sorry something happened to someone and pitying them are two very different things, and I know you wouldn't be happy with pity."

"You think he pities me?" She looked up at him with wide, sad eyes, and David wanted to take her pain away in a way he shouldn't feel responsible for.

"I think he doesn't know the difference between the two."

"It still doesn't really answer the question. _Why_? Why do you feel responsible for making sure I'm not alone?"

David ran his hand over the top of his head, trying to think of how to word his feelings without upsetting or annoying her. "I guess ever since the Daniel thing, I feel concern for you. I understand you don't need anyone to make sure you're okay, or to protect you, or whatever, but sometimes it's okay to need connection, friendship, you know, someone you can rely on just for whatever."

Regina stood up straight, the action closing the distance between them, and she looked into his eyes and gave him a sad smile. "It isn't, though. Not when you're alone. There's no one who is mine for me to lean on. There hasn't been since my mother ripped Daniel's heart out of his chest and crushed it."

"I don't know, I like to consider us friends. We've experienced a lot together, too much to say that all we are is related through Henry, don't you think?" David countered, watching for her reaction. She still looked sad, less angry than he might have expected, and not closed off in the way he was used to her being when she was upset. And despite everything in him telling him to stop, to not go there, not right now… not ever, really, he dipped his head and pressed his lips gently to hers, simply wanting to bring her some level of comfort.

Regina pulled back after a moment, looking up at him in surprise and a sudden need for more, for something bruisingly distracting, something like David. She gripped the opening of his flannel and tugged him close, crashing her lips hard to his and kissing him hungrily, greedily.

He moved his arms instinctively around her waist, pulling her body tight against his as he gave her as much fervor as she was giving him. Taking two steps forward, he pushed her back against the edge of the counter next to her sink, pinning her and slipping one hand up into her hair, holding her to him.

She brought her arms up around his shoulders, pulling him down to her, tongue sliding against his as she curved her back and closed the little bit of space that had been left between them. David moved his hands down to her hips, lifting her to sit on the edge of the counter and stepping between her legs to keep kissing her. Their hands moved to each other's shirt, tugging and pushing at fabric to loosen them, his flannel halfway down his arms and her top untucked from her pants.

But then his phone started ringing in his pocket, pulling them from the moment and shocking him enough to make him step back quickly, reaching for the source of the interruption. Snow's face was lit up on the screen, so he cleared his throat and fixed his shirt as he swiped to accept the call. "Hey."

"Hey, how did it go? Are you still there?"

He nodded despite the fact that she couldn't see him. "Yeah, we were just making soup, but uh, I can come home if you need me to."

"You probably shouldn't. Have you seen it outside? It's a full on blizzard." Her words made him reach over, pushing aside the closed curtain on the window over the sink. Sure enough, it looked like they'd gotten at least a foot and a half so far, and it didn't seem to be letting up.

"Well, uh… then I guess I'll just stay here and wait out the storm?"

"It's probably for the best. At least you'll be safe there. Call me after you eat, okay?"

"Okay. Sure. Bye." He ended the call, staring at the screen and wondering just what she would've said had she known what her call interrupted. He had an idea, though. David looked at Regina, shoving his phone back into his pocket. "Looks like we're snowed in."

She nodded, glancing behind her at the window, though the curtain had fallen shut again once he'd let go of it, so she didn't get a glimpse of the outside. "So I gathered. The irony is palpable," Regina answered dryly, slipping off the counter and back to her feet. "Are you hungry? The chicken won't have soaked up the broth flavor yet, but as long as you eat it with the other stuff it should still taste fine."

David looked at the pot on the stove and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, I'll take a bowl." He watched as she pulled down two bowls and took two spoons from a drawer, a ladle from another, and then filled both bowls with the soup. His eyes roamed over her back and bottom while she worked, until he forced himself to look away and silently scolded himself for what had happened with her.

Regina turned, putting one spoon into a bowl and holding it out for him. She jerked her head toward the dining room. "We can eat in there." She led him in, sitting down at her usual spot and watching as he took the same seat he had so many years before, the last time the two of them had had a meal alone, under very different circumstances.

They ate mostly in silence, but halfway through his bowl, David looked at her and let his spoon rest against the side of his bowl. "I'm sorry for… I shouldn't have done that, kissed you, I wasn't trying to- I just wanted to comfort you somehow."

She raised her eyebrows, fighting the smirk that was playing at her lips. "And what? You thought a kiss from Prince Charming would cure me of my upset?"

He blushed furiously, shrugging and dropping his gaze to his soup. "No, I just didn't have any other ideas."

Regina chuckled softly. "It's fine, David. In case you've forgotten already, I pushed it farther. I'm not upset."

"You're being awfully quiet."

She gave a quick nod, letting go of her spoon and pushing her bowl away. Leaning forward just slightly, she brought her forearms to rest on the table in front of her. "I was contemplating telling you something. I'm angry at Snow for reading my diaries, but not entirely for the reasons I imagine you would assume. I didn't want her to know about her father, about the way he treated me in his bedchambers, or how it bothered me that I was required to attend every ball we hosted, and many of the ones hosted in other kingdoms, when all I ended up doing was sitting alone, because he would dance with her instead of with his wife, but the one time I accepted an offer to dance with someone else, he told me if I ever did it again I wouldn't attend another ball for years to come. And while I would have loved to test that threat and been punished by having to stay in my room or at the castle for all balls, instead of having to be dragged around and paraded for my beauty, then tossed aside and ignored, I never did, because he also had an affinity for reminding me that I belonged to him.

"Those weren't the only things I didn't want Snow to see, to know; I figured there was a pretty big chance she wouldn't believe them anyway. What I didn't want was her pity. I didn't want her to know the other things, the things that were completely hidden from her, like the three pregnancies in the span of two years, all of which ended in a miscarriage, the first being one that lasted so long I had to go through labor and give birth only to have to hold a stillborn baby and say goodbye to a love I never got to know. A baby, or the thought of a baby, had been the only thing that kept me from wanting to kill myself after I lost all my hope for bringing Daniel back. Not that I wanted Leopold's, but I knew it was expected and thought maybe because it would be mine, too, I would love it and it could be a small ray of light in an otherwise dark existence."

"Snow never knew?" David asked, though she'd made that much clear. His heart ached for her loss, ached for the pain she had endured in her youth, each thing piled on to make him realize the fact that she was even alive and still standing on her own feet was an accomplishment all its own.

"Like I said, I didn't want her pity, and pity it would be."

He nodded because he knew she was right. Snow would pity her, he'd seen it in her face when he'd gotten home to take the diaries and bring them to Regina. He'd seen all of her emotions, the pity, the hurt, the anger, the disbelief and doubt. Not a single proper emotion of empathy or sympathy had been on display, which made him more upset with her as he sat here and listened to Regina give him little glimpses of what was in those diaries. "Can I ask you a question?"

She looked at him warily for a moment, then gave a single nod in acceptance of his request. "I suppose so."

"Did you ever open yourself up to love again after Daniel, I mean _really_ open yourself up to the idea?"

Regina sighed. "I did with Robin. I thought he was my chance, he was supposed to be my soulmate after all, but whatever it was was short lived and he did what was necessary for Marian and Roland, because that's the kind of man he is, but it ended in me losing the only chance at love I'd ever taken after Daniel, and since then I've had no desire. I'd love to have someone to be with, someone to do everything with as my son continues to grow and have a life of his own, someone to spend time with who isn't just a friend with a life of their own to go home to. But I'm clearly not destined for that, and you know, I'll be okay. I don't need someone to make me happy, my happiness is with my son, and I'm good with that."

David nodded his understanding, though he still hoped that someday she could experience a love that lasted forever instead of losing it over and over. He didn't say anything further, accepting that she had given him plenty to think about and would likely not share all that much more, so he picked up his spoon, an act she copied, and they finished eating in silence.

And when they finished, they retired to the living room, where he eventually pulled her into his arms and held her tight, reminding her that she wasn't alone, and she had friends she may have never expected. He held her the entire night, the act far more innocent than the one they'd carried on with in the kitchen, but also significantly more intimate as well, for he held her in a way she hadn't been held since the young age of eighteen, before the diaries had ever been started and the occurrences that led to her destruction had not yet taken place. He held her with care and love, and while it may not have been the type of love she'd always wanted, it was something sincere how it was, and for one night she didn't feel so lonely or broken, despite the harsh reminder she'd been hit with that day.


End file.
